


Lost In My Mind

by livlifesweet



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Post-The Reichenbach Fall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-18
Updated: 2014-01-18
Packaged: 2018-01-09 04:49:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1141635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livlifesweet/pseuds/livlifesweet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock struggles to identify how he feels for Molly while staying in her flat after the fall. He looks through his mind palace to see if he can discern these new feelings</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost In My Mind

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally going to be multiple chapters but I'm not sure if I'll continue with it as I often make this over complicated. This unbetad so all mistakes are my own.  
> I don't own these characters so all rights go to Moffat, Gattis, Doyle ect.

Sherlock sat in Molly’s sitting room brooding. It had been nearly a month since the fall and he had made very slow progress. He had just figured out where the network was located in London, but had yet to act on it. Something was holding him back, and that something was Molly Hooper. Once he moved to take down the network he would have to leave the little life he had in Molly’s flat, and he wasn't sure if he was ready to do that. Their safety was at risk the longer he stayed, and he also needed to destroy the rest of Moriarty’s web that functioned outside of England. He was unsure as to why he was so hesitant to leave Molly; with a sigh he decided this needed some serious thinking. Sherlock sprawled himself out on her sofa, fingers steepled under his chin as he went into his mind palace.

Sherlock walked down the corridors of his mind palace until he found the right door. It was a simple wood oak door with plain black lettering etched into the surface which read: 

Molly Hooper. He turned the handle a bit hesitantly rather unsure what he would find inside. Stepping into the room Sherlock realized that he had collected a massive amount of information about the mousy pathologist since he had lasted visited. Molly’s room used to only hold the best ways to compliment her when Sherlock wanted something done his way and basic facts like her age, height, and weight. The tiny room was now filled with sets of morgue drawers containing everything he had bothered to remember about her. Sherlock almost didn't know where to begin...almost. He walked over to the drawer that had probably started all of this.

“What do you need?”

“You.”

Sherlock didn't think he would ever forget the way Molly look that night, his last night alive. She appeared a bit stunned at his answer to her question, her doe eyes growing even wider but she nodded her head nonetheless. Molly flicked the lights of the lab back on and set her things down ready to work. They toiled through the night making sure all of the necessary precautions were made. Nothing could go wrong, this was too important. When all was said and done Molly looked absolutely exhausted and Sherlock wondered if he was a bad person for putting her through all this.

“Thank You.” He said quietly to her as she finished putting away the last of the lab equipment. Molly turned toward him a small tired smile on her lips.

“You’re welcome, Sherlock.” She said as if she had just helped him with some menial experiment instead of saving his life. “I’m just glad I could help.” Her shoulders shrugged. There it was Molly Hooper being absolutely selfless despite everything Sherlock had done to her; he wondered how any of that was possible. He stepped closer to her as if that would help him understand.

“I mean it Molly I don’t know what I would have done without you.” Sherlock then pulled her into a slightly awkward embrace, he wasn't sure why he did it but it just felt right. He could still feel Molly’s arms wrap around his middle and squeeze tightly.

“Just be careful, yeah?” She mumbled into his chest before pulling away. Sherlock could tell she was blinking back tears trying hard not to show how worried she was. “See you in a few hours.” Her voice was barely a whisper trying not to be overcome with emotion. When their embrace ended Molly rushed past him and out the lab doors before Sherlock had a chance to respond. As she breezed past him Sherlock for the first time became aware of the faint smell of vanilla mixed with the scent of lab chemicals that dissipated as she left the room.

Sherlock closed the drawer and sighed, how Molly could manage to stay so loyal was a mystery to him. He moved on to the next set of drawers opening them and reliving his memories. Molly reviving him after the fall, Molly insisting Sherlock stay at her flat for just that first night, Molly staying up with him as he confessed his fears of losing the people he cared about. Molly wrapping her fragile arms around his tall form as he finally broke down and sobbed into her shoulder at the weight of what he had just done. Molly who didn't judge him the next morning when he didn't want to talk about it, Molly who unflinchingly agreed that Sherlock could stay as long as he needed to when he discovered he had more work to do in London. Molly who worked Sherlock into her daily routine seamlessly, always insisting he eat something, reminding him to sleep regularly , never angered by his foul moods brought on by his frustration in tracking down Moriarty’s web. Molly who kept his secret from the world without a second thought. Molly, Molly, Molly. Her name rolled around his head a thousand times over. She had become a constant in his life an anchor that had kept him from drifting out to an uncharted and fitful sea.

Something in Sherlock had changed he could feel it when he visited earlier memories of her. He now saw the eternal brightness she carried with her and felt his heart ache when that brightness dimmed as he relived all the times he had insulted her. Sherlock wanted to take it all back, do it all over again, but he knew that was impossible. This feeling was something he was not used to, it was one of caring, and tenderness, but he also felt a strange sort of passion. Is this what love feels like? Sherlock decided he would need to observe Molly anew now that he acknowledged his strange feeling for her. He felt himself being pulled out of his mind palace at the sound of a key turning in a lock, slowly coming back to reality he heard the sound of a door opening and being shut, then the sound of feet shuffling toward him. Sherlock opened his eyes to find Molly’s warm brown ones staring back at him in concern.

“Are you feeling alright?” she asked her eyes flitting over his face.

“I don’t think I've ever felt better.” He replied.


End file.
